


I don't hate you

by fatalize



Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatalize/pseuds/fatalize
Summary: Tohru knew Rin was beautiful. It just hadn't clicked, is all.





	I don't hate you

            Tohru always knew Rin was beautiful, knew it before she even saw her in human form, knew the strength and sleekness of her horse transformation would have been a perfect metaphor for the  girl herself had it not been so literal. And then, when she saw her, untransformed and naked—both physically and emotionally—Tohru knew Rin was beautiful.

            It just hadn’t clicked, is all. The notion of what that beauty meant to her—the admiration, the awe, the attraction. Ah, that’s what it was, _attraction_. It had never occurred to her that the stirring inside her when she saw Rin, the light little fingertip-taps on her stomach, butterfly-kisses, sparkling sensations, were something other than appreciation or embarrassment, desire for friendship or even slight inclinations of envy. They were, in fact, tiny bubbles of _attraction_.

            But what woman could be first in her mind but her mother—what woman could she let into herself fully, unfold her carefully crafted origami heart and remove all the things Tohru had convinced herself of, the walls she put up to block her grief; what woman, she thought, could surpass the unsurpassable, could break through the stubbornness she’d set herself in, could be important enough to topple the most important thing?

_Being by yourself is scary.  
            Being alone…is a frightening way to live._

            Then it clicked.

* * *

            Rin is made of broken bones.

            They’re jagged, broken-glass edged, protruding from her body every which way; her skin is a set of permanent daggers, cutting anyone who’s close. Her words, too, are knife-sharp, flung around like a razored chakram, slicing their target and looping back to her.

            Yet her weapons, although harsh, are at their root weathered wounds; her blades are the product of unhealed hurt, nicked by time, rusted with tears.

            She hurls them, one by one, at the other girl, a barrage of scars and blisters.

            Tohru, step by step, accepts them in her arms, the weapons dissolving in her lightness, bones melting and finally collapsing.

            An embrace. Tears of every flavor: of pain, the most potent; of hurt and healing, of relief, of embarrassment—like a child—of disgust, of gratitude. And then, most unexpectedly, a set of tears that fall from above, angelic tears that aren’t Rin’s, tears that somehow are coming from Tohru. Tears of loneliness, of empathy, of understanding. Mutual tears.

* * *

            A mother.

            That’s who Tohru thinks should be the foremost presence in her life, the epitome of kindness and love, one no other woman—no other person—no other anything would ever be able to overcome.

            A mother.

            A person Rin thinks she’s longing for, a person she wants to pour her heart out to, who will take care of her, treat her with respect and kindness and love.

            A mother…?

            The two sat holding each other for a very long time.

* * *

            When it clicked, Tohru refused to believe it, like the rest of her unwanted emotions; she suppressed it, lied to herself that it had to be her mother who was first, and that was unchangeable. If that was the way it was, she wouldn’t have to get hurt.

            Yet when she saw Rin, she was undeniably excited—she always wanted to see her, know how she was doing, babble to her about whatever came to mind. She couldn’t help it; she leapt, and when she plunged, she felt warm, a warmth she felt greedy for desiring over and over again.

            Rin was simply embarrassed. Her broken bones remained unmended, her daggers still uncomfortably shot through her shoulders, her heart was clogged under a weaponry of debris. Yet Tohru was soft, Tohru was gentle, Tohru knew exactly how to place her hands around her shards without injury on either side. And Tohru was lovely and silly, endearing and bashful, wonderful in ways that had nothing to do with Rin.

            It was Tohru who made the first move.

* * *

            “Isuzu-san…?”

            Rin looks up, blinks. Tohru’s cheeks are slightly flushed, a baby blush of peach-tints. _She’s so still,_ Rin thinks, _like a doll_ —but there’s too much that’s so human about her to make her comparable to a lifeless plaything, a collector’s item stored on a shelf.

            “Yeah? What is it?”

            “May I…that is, only if it’s completely alright—you can say no, it’s fine, I’d understand—but I was wondering...if I could call you Rin? Like everyone else?”

            She’s fumbling in that overly-polite way of hers, wrung with cautiousness about a simple question. Rin’s first split-second reaction is annoyance—it’s not that big of a deal, and why is she being so formal about something like this?—until she realizes this is another of Tohru’s attempts to try to get nearer to her, to push forward in their friendship, initiating closeness.

            “Ah, I’m sorry, that wouldn’t work, would it? I was too presumptive, of course—”

            “You can call me Rin,” she blurts out to shut her up before she can realize what she’s agreed to.

            Somehow, it’s Tohru who blushes. “Really?” She’s excited now, her former embarrassment completely dissolved, excitement lighting up every inch of her face. “Oh, I’m so happy! Rin~”

            And although Rin’s never given much thought to her nickname before, it somehow _does_ sound like a bell when it comes from Tohru’s lips, melodic and charming. Rin almost wants to say, _Say it again._ She wants to say, _Call my name as much as you like._

            But instead the only thing she’s able to say is the other girl’s a name, a whisper; “Tohru…”

            It’s almost as if the blades of her body retract, as if, for the first time in a long time, Tohru calling her name is a key to her softening, to her sheathing her anger and fear. Here she is, this light and foolish girl who’s wormed her way into Rin, a rotten apple, a discarded thing. Is it so bad, accepting her love, giving her own, when, in this moment, she feels so drawn, so tender?

            And then she’s leaning closer to her, down and in, a muscle memory she’s never experienced before; she closes her eyes, places her lips softly on Tohru’s.

            No reaction. Tohru is stiff like a doll, and when Rin opens her eyes, pulls away, she sees, immediately, Tohru’s skin is bright red, her eyes wide.

            “I’m sorry—” Rin starts, knowing that what she’s done was probably wrong, probably unforgivable—

            “No, no!” Tohru protests, waving her hands frantically. “It’s not a problem at all! I admit I was very much taken by surprise, and you’re so beautiful I was—I suppose I didn’t ever think—it was very shocking is all, I couldn’t have expected, but, um….” Her franticness dissolves into meekness, shyness. “It did…feel nice.”

            “You don’t…hate me?” Rin asks, wary, slightly prickled and ready to brandish her shards, ready to leap and kick at a moment’s notice.

            But Tohru is reaching up, moving a long lock of thick, black hair away from Rin’s face, and god, why does she look like she’s about to cry? “Hate you?” Tohru asks, pained and aching. “I could never…”

            And something in Rin folds, finally, and maybe it’s because of Tohru’s gentle touch, or her heartbreakingly delicate eyes, or the soft way her voice wraps around Rin’s insides; but Rin folds into her, rests her head on her shoulder, lets Tohru touch her, wrap her arms around her, lets her warmth sink into Rin’s pale, cold skin.

            It feels nice.

            “I could never hate you,” Tohru says into her hair, and she really does sound like she’s crying now. “I think, for a long time, I…I….”

            “I don’t hate you, either,” Rin breathes into her neck, a weak attempt to stop her, console her. She knows it’s hard for both of them. Knows how much effort it might take for Tohru to admit her love, for Rin to let down her walls. She doesn’t want to rush things, break things. Instead of rampaging, she wants to do things right for once.

            So she runs her fingers along Tohru’s back in a steady, even rhythm. “I don’t hate you. I don’t.” The closest thing to admitting love.

* * *

 

            They held each other like that for a long time, and then, when they separated, saw a new dawn, and took a step forward.


End file.
